To Build A Home
by dawnkiwi
Summary: Starring Lily Naveah. 'Physically, outwardly, I didn't even react. But as I stared at the trees where there had been something so unnaturally needed, the world didn't seem so complacent, but dull. Like a grey oil painting being washed down the sink.' - And Paul Lahote. Imprint story. Colorful depression. Bullying- past tense. And themes of Growing Up. Death, of many kinds.
1. Chapter 1

I would recommend listening to 'To Build A Home' by the Cinematic Orchestra as you read the first chapter. It helps.

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To Build A Home - A Twilight Fanfiction

**My first memories are of the green giants of the forest that seemed to touch the heavens, and my fathers laughing face as he watched me stare open mouthed at the trees. **

**"Something the matter?" he laughed, swooping down to lift me up, hugging me to his chest. My chubby, clumsy little 4 year old fingers latched onto his hair and shoulders. **

Starring Lily Navaeh

**"This is Mason, honey," my mom said, holding my hand in hers. She smiled at me and gestured to 'Mason'. I peeked around her arm. Today is the first day of 1st grade. "Hello," I said quietly. "I'm Lils-"**

**"Lily," my mom said to Masons'. **

**"- but you can call me Lee.."**

**A tall boy, with light, half-cast skin and dark grey eyes looked at me curiously. **

**"Hi," he mumbled, looking at his shoes. His mom and mine began to talk. We stood next to each other in silence. "Do..d-do you like lego?" I stuttered, blushing slightly. He turned red when he looked at me. He nodded. "Yeah," he said, voice high. **

**I grinned shakily. Could this be my first friend? **

**"Same!" I said, a bit too loud. Mason jumped and out parents looked over, smiling. **

**I went even more red and looked down, embarrassed. My orange parka never seemed to stand out more than at that moment. **

**"D'you..wanna build rocketship?" he asked, nervous. I nodded, "Yeah! A rocket for the stars!"**

**He smiled back, more at ease. **

Mason Free

**Grabbing my dads' hand, clutching it tight in mine, as I stood outside the school. Eighth grade today. I wasn't afraid to hold my fathers hand, even if I was 13. I was afraid of what stood before me.  
**

**"You'll be fine, blossom," he whispered, leaning down slightly, placing a soft kiss to my clean coffee colored hair. **

**It would be the first time I had started school without a hug from mom, a kiss and a smile. **

**My dad smiled ruefully. "Got get 'em, tiger," he whispered, and stood, looking down at me. I tried to smile back at him, but I couldn't, because I was scared and I was alone. I turned to look at the dauntingly small building. I had grown up with half of these people.  
**

**My dad patted my shoulder and then he was gone, weaving through the small crowd of students to his car, already late for work. A shoulder slammed into mine and I felt to grass, looking up. **

**Paul Lahote grinned down at me, nasty and cold. **

**A bully back for another year.**

Paul Lahote

**It had begun.**

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Chapter One:

**There is a house built out of stone..**

Three weeks until Senior year, and I sit out on the porch of our house. It's warm, but not enough to be uncomfortable, and the sun is actually shinning in La Push. Today is an odd day. I woke up feeling calm, more calm than I ever remember feeling, and the birds weren't too loud, and the sun, actually shinning, wasn't in my eyes.

I wasn't too early to be awake, but I didn't feel as though I had wasted the days. Dad had gone to work already, but there was food in the cupboard. I didn't feel like eating cold food, or anything very hot. So I snacked on some crackers.

But now it was almost silent, softly sunny, the sky a dull blue.

I felt empty. Like there was no significant feeling, just a balance, that was calm, and dead. Almost numb. Staring ahead, I looked at the towering trees, all such a deep dark mossy green, that you'd be hard pressed to find anywhere else in the world. From the porch, on the swinging chair, I can barely see the tops, and the sky only visible from the road.

But our front yard is bare, just an old letter box, our house nestled deep in the woods, an old back road the only way here. I am completely alone.

And it isn't that I'm lonely. I feel fine. But, fine, the, feeling, is almost painful. It's like how the sky is a blemish free shade of blue, a color almost only found on a periwinkle shell, that reminds of the alps and ice, but it isn't cold. It just doesn't know what it is. And it's painful.

Because while there isn't anything wrong with the color, it's devoid of any strong feeling that would keep it alive. It's complacent. It's passive. It's..listless.

Lethargic. Apathetic. And that sounds so grey. But really, it's just a very faint acceptance, that means nothing, but a lack of will to try. To fight. Or to care.

**Wooden floors, walls, and window sills...**

I'm smiling though, aren't I? And I have sunglasses on, even though they barely do anything, being almost clear, and I'm in the shade, and there isn't nearly enough sun to even bother with them. But I'm alive, and I'm smiling, though I don't know why, and I'm outside. You can't ask for much more.

_flash_

There is a flash of greyed brown. I almost would not have seen it, if I hadn't been staring directly in the spot I had. It all but blended in. And if my world, in my eyes, but with me in the picture, had been a picture taken in a black and white tone, there would have been a smudge in the trees, far off, across from me. A blur of color, almost perceivable. But it would be there.

My heart, in my chest and with the force of a thousand beating hooves, lurched after that blur, even though my eyes didn't stray, and for a moment my life felt like it was surrounded and powered by a meaning too strong for words. But in those seconds, as soon as the feeling registered, it was gone, trailing away at a speed I couldn't fathom, and steadily growing in distance. Physically, outwardly, I didn't even react. But as I stared at the trees where there had been something so unnaturally needed, the world didn't seem so complacent, but dull.

Like a grey oil painting being washed down the sink.

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**That's the first chapter. Can someone please tell me what they think? Other than the desired recipient- although, Xa, please review. Heh. Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Paul Lahote POV**

**Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust..**

Walking from the woods, on human feet, not my wolfs', still makes me feel more powerful than everyone around me. Before I phased I was big. But now I'm not just a 6 ft brute, I'm a 6"5 monster, and I'm not that unhappy about it. Ha, Jared complained at first, that he felt like a monster. He said it like it was something bad. But I always felt so good about it. I still do.

Brady sits outside, on the back steps of Emily's house, eating something that smells _so_ good. I think it's casserole in lasagne. Something Emily does to save money.

"What's that?"

Brady looks at me, and figures, he's the only one of the pups that can actually forget about everything around him when he's eating, even with his new senses.

"Lashenga," he says, through a mouthful of deliciousness.

Smirking at him, I stepped onto the porch, seeing as Brady took up all the steps, and the weight of my body made the wood creak. Even nature bows to us, sometimes.

"Paul!" Emily exclaims as I step inside, careful not to hit my head on the door. I did that the very first time I walked in here, and I refuse to do it again. If you can't learn from your mistakes, especially when you're a wolf, then you shouldn't play with the bloodsuckers.

"Hey Em, got any grub for me?"

Sam snarled at me, as he always does when I don't ask her how her day was, but I don't see the point, if she was upset Sam wouldn't let any of us near her, and if I wanted to know I'd just wait 'till Sam phased. It's not like Emily cares. She's cool like that.

She grinned, "Yep, and you better get it while it's hot, Seth went on a patrol so the rest of the pack will be here any minute. He ate Collin's, too, so he's off sulking," she laughed. Only she could laugh about a bitter, hormonal wolf. Mostly because Sam would destroy Collin if he even so much as had angry thoughts.

Imprinting. Peh.

She handed me a plate, _and **god** did it smell_ _good_, and turned back to wrapping up the left overs. "I actually made enough for Collin, but he broke my yard chair, so he can wait."

And here we see why Emily is undoubtedly related to Leah. But Emily is better, because Leah is a bitch. Simple.

As I sat down to eat, ignoring the signature squeak that every fucking chair gives when any one of the pack sat down, I ignored the fork I had been given and tipped my head back, letting the glorious wonder that is food slide into my mouth. Emily is an angel. One I can stand. She places another plate in front of me, because I just ate the normal serving for a human being in one go, and it's expected by now that we're going to need more than that to fuel the whole 'I-am-a-shifting-protector-of-La-Push,-Thank-You' wolf thing. We require much food.

Sam didn't say anything, which is nothing more than a form of silent 'whipism', as Embry says, because he doesn't want to gain anything but happy feelings from Emily and sighing is apparently a bad one. Because last time I was rude and didn't use a fork, directly in front of Emily, (and keep in mind, this was one of the first times I had ever even met her), she looked disgusted so Sam growled at me. She frowned at him.

It broke his furwy wittle hart.

It remains funny to this day.

"Fanksh, Ehm," I managed to say. No need to bite the hand that feeds.

It's funny. Because I'm a wolf.

Which just brings me back to the point that Leah is a bitch, because she's a female dog. She always was but now I can claim legitimacy when I say that.

Only Seth and Leah don't think I'm funny.

With another plate in hand, I pretty much swallowed it, and then stood up, ready to leave. It's my turn for a break and as much as I like Emily's cooking (and am still somewhat hungry), I would like to spend time away from the constant stream of the pack.

**This is a place where I don't feel alone..**

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**Lily POV**

I saw Mason today. While dad was at work, I didn't have anything in particular to do. I loitered around the house, just standing in the kitchen for a while, opening the fridge to see if anything nice had materialized even though I wasn't hungry, and slowly cleaned up around the house. It wasn't quite messy, anyway. So I figured that I may as well go buy groceries, because it needed doing... and there was naught to do, anyway.

The walk from the house often leaves me just staring at the trees, and the worn road with it's faded yellow markings, and years ago, I used to hum to myself because even then, I didn't really enjoy the sound of music. Now it's just silent though. Sometimes, although not very recently, my thoughts will swirl around in my head and I'll imagine things that I know will never happen. But isn't dreaming if I'm really just remembering memories of things that don't happen anymore.

It takes maybe half an hour to walk from my house to the end of the road, where it joins up to the one entering La Push or leaving for Forks. Along that lonesome stretch of road, I am alone, with nature, and Taka Aki. The trees are bigger than I am, and the sky is so far away, and down on the ground I feel like I don't even appear. But that isn't something bad, in fact, it's actually a soothing feeling. Because I know then, that even if people like Paul Lahote or Braxton Tahute are bigger than me, that even they are nothing in comparison. It makes them less daunting, and everything easier to go with.

So when I stepped over the curb outside the grocery store, my heart beat was steady and slow. Until I saw Mason. He lives closer to my house than the Forks shopping street (because it's hardly a center for anything more than rain), so it's surprising that I don't see him anymore. But when I did, for a moment, my heart leaped into my mouth, not because of love, but because of bitter hurt. When people leave you high and dry, it can be difficult regaining the time you lose as a result.

With a frown, as the surprising flash of emotion bled down the drain, I looked away. I don't know if he saw me, but I don't want to see him. I think.

There weren't many people around, which is never surprising, just an old lady who quietly shuffled passed with her floral bag held tight, blue eyes aged.

I don't think I'll ever look as aged as that.

Entering the store, it's just as dull inside the building as it is out. Like when you wear a pair of sunglasses, and everything is a shade different. Unless of course you have expensive sunglasses. That's a little different. Because money does change your perspective. But it doesn't matter just how much money you have, if you take those sunglasses off, the world the same as it will to any other person.

I stopped wearing sunglasses, seeing as I live in Washington, and I'll never end up leaving it. I don't need them.

Ms Palangi is standing at the counter, and she waves as I walk past the newspaper stand. I smile at her. She smiles back.

The formalities are out of the way.

Browsing the available ingredients, I realized that I had never actually taken note of what we would need outside of the basic necessities. It didn't quite matter, but there was a moment in my mind that could have only passed in a second, where I realized that just like this supermarket, my life has the possibility to be the most award winning dish. Yet I lacked the skill.

But no amount of dedication or training would get me there.

Just the passion that comes from someone to share your creation with.

It just so happens there is a void where that person should sit, and it will probably remain that way until I burn down my kitchen, having forgotten turn off my stove.

Hope can kill a person even if you have stopped trying.

The thought slid away from me as I picked up a can of tuna and chucked it in the basket. My dad usually eats before he comes home on weekdays, so it's just about feeding myself most days. The following items were boring and would only taste mediocre considering the fact that I can't cook and I'm not to the point of going to a restaurant by myself.

Eventually I had wandered around the small store and collected items I was actually interested in consuming, and placed the basket on the checkout counter.

Ms Palangi was still standing to attention and she began to speak to me as she scanned the items.

"Tell me, honey, how have you been? Summer break is almost over, that must be a shame," she said, smiling lightly as she placed cans and pasta into a bag.

It never ceases to astound me how she can be so content with everything.

"Good, good. Yeah, senior year this time, last trimester then I'm free," I said with a weak laugh.

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I wish that were true. I wish that after the next three terms of school, I would be free, but I truly believe I will never leave Washington. Not alive nor dead. I'll be buried here. It's like how you always know something will happen. Like, how Mason, a childhood friend (and we will leave it at that) always knew he would brake his nose. He believed it would happen from falling from a tree. It did. When I asked him, once, how he knew, he said that if he thought about broken bones then his nose would throb like it had healed, and he had the sensation of falling.

If you believe that to be true, then think about this:

Every time I think about my death, I know that I will be buried in La Push or Forks, because my body has the sensation of euphoric calm, and my body feels drawn towards the forest. I know, without a fair reason, that I will be buried in the forest.

But I'm okay with that.

It's fine.

**This is a place where I feel at home...**

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**I hope that was enjoyable.**


	3. Chapter 3

**And I built a home..**

It's Friday today. Usually, it's the day of the week that people feel the most relieved. I think that's pretty silly. A waste of emotion. For it to be Friday usually signifies that it's the end of the school week, it's the end of the work week, and you're free for 72 hours. But I don't understand why people do that to themselves. I never have. Why can't you just enjoy the time you have? It's up to you to make things enjoyable. Keep humor in your heart, as my mom would say.

Although, I know I should be the first one to take my own advice. I don't believe I need to though, because I'm happy with my pace of life. I'm not sad when Sunday comes to an end, or I find myself in the middle of Tuesday.

There is a downside to today, unfortunately.

Grimly, for even my expression would not lie, I was not looking forward to walking to school. In just over a week school will start back. But I have to go into school today because of a subject clash. It's going to be a forty minute walk for the sake of nothing more than pleasing the school.

You would think I could just phone the school.

Sighing, I blinked slowly. Locking the door behind me, I slipped the key into my pocket, feeling it slide down behind my phone.

Again I am faced with the worn road. And it's like once again I'm actually heading to school. Have you ever been faced with that odd feeling, where you feel like you should be carrying a bag or wearing a seat belt but you aren't and you don't need to..yet it feel's so genuinely _odd_ not to be?

I feel like that now.

Eventually I allowed my mind to drift off into a haze, lost in some sort of mist that was more welcoming that it should have been.

Then, like no time had passed, I somehow wound up at the school office.

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Birdseye POV

Lily, of whom had hair the darkest shade of almond for hair, looked inwards through the glass doors. Like all the other Quiluete, her skin was a beautiful russet, but somewhere along the line her mothers ancestry had graced her with the smallest amount of freckles and grey-green eyes like a fox.

Other than that, she was near non-descript.

Lips pursed tightly, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Hands shoved into her jacket pockets, deeply hidden in the comfort of the soft fabric.

There were no other students, just an empty hall devoid of life or expectations. She hated it for all the memories it held.

A folded, crumpled yellow flyer was scrunched into the gap beneath a row of lockers, reminiscent of days gone by. She wondered very absently, as she stepped forward, what it would be like when she finally graduated. How she would feel. If anything would change.

But she doubted that greatly, looking down in resignation. She would rather be almost anywhere but there, standing defunct.

There was the soft tap-tap-tapping of her sneakers, rip off versions of converse, designed to do nothing more than cover her feet.

Like how she had a body, but it didn't mean it anything more than keeping her alive. Like the bare minimum.

Work had to be done for any improvements. Although, that could be taken in a number of ways.

She shoved her hands deep in her jacket pockets. Passing over the faded, beaten puce school floor. It was like being at school again.

Like a pain she didn't feel anywhere else bar her mind. Like a tedious scraping feeling.

Sighing, rolling her eyes and all but deflating of life, she walked down the hall, letting her mind drift away. She still had a few days until she had to be back at school so she didn't quite want to feel like she was actually there. It was all just one big waste of time.

Mrs Quistis, the secretary to Principal Fuller, sat at her jumbled desk, tapping away without a care in the world. Ruby nails and pink lipstick, slightly frazzled hair and earrings heavy enough to slowly distort the shape of her ears. She was purely the picture of one who has never managed to find herself.

Lily had already found herself, years ago, but sometimes she wasn't sure whether she wanted to be herself or feel that constant surge of anxiety that she just knew people like Mrs Quistis had to put up with everyday.

She came to a stop in front of the desk, patiently although faintly agitated, and waited for acknowledgement.

But Mrs Quistis simply continued to tap away at her germ covered keyboard.

So Lily cleared her throat, tentatively, but with a desire to get things on the road.

Mrs Quistis jumped, a sharp frightful motion. "Ooh! Dear, Lily, honey. You scared the sugar out of me!"

Lily just smiled, forced though it was.

Mrs Quistis exhaled heavily with a breathy smile, "My, my, how time fly's. Ah, you're here to see Mr Fuller, aren't you dear?"

Lily licked her lips as she prepared to speak. It was like for a moment the world slowed to minute moments, where everything could be seen clearly, as she anticipated the tedious dragging on that would happen once she entered his office.

"Yeah," she said, still favouring her forced smile, "It's about my subject clashes," she said. Her lips curled inwards as her smile became sheepish, forming a funny, pudgy smile.

Mrs Quistis clapped her hands, Lily's eyes watching the forming wrinkles on her arthritic knuckles, as she remembered her instructions.

Lily held no doubt that once Mrs Quistis had remembered what she was supposed to know, that relief had surged through her body, like she had been dying for air. There had once been a time when Lily herself was similar to that. Speaking to more than one person at a time, that she didn't know well, may well have drowned her whole. But things change. People change. People learn.

People slowly lose parts of their childhood.

Lily envied the childishness in Mrs Quistis. And sadly, she knew a child would never feel the same sort of longing sadness that her envy contained.

"Right, ah, right, yes," Mrs Quistis said as she reached for a yellow slip and handed it to Lily's waiting hand. It was a stark comparison between the aged and growing.

"So, just feel free to go in dear," Mrs Quistis said, gesturing to the door that blatantly, and blandly, proclaimed '**Mr Fuller**'.

'And there never once was a man as bland Fuller, the duller the days and way we don't get paid', rhyme inside Lily's head chimed, something that had always been said during Middle School, in anticipation for the High School years to come.

She frowned.

But she walked towards the cheap wooden door, scuffed at the bottom, where the aluminum guard had fallen away years prior. And she placed a tired hand on the door handle, faintly cringing at the germs that were surely colonizing that surface, and pushed down, allowing the door to spring open inwards.

She probably should have knocked.

Probably.

**for you**

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Just a short chapter this time, I'm sorry. I'll get around to uploading a longer one the next time. Please enjoy.  



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